


The Second Life of Harry J. Potter

by Miss_Marchioness



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Harry Potter, Dark Harry, M/M, Master of Death Harry Potter, Pairings undecided, Slytherin Harry Potter, relationship tags will be added - Freeform, this will be m/m
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:07:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21993421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Marchioness/pseuds/Miss_Marchioness
Summary: When Uncle Vernon goes too far before Harry even gets to Hogwarts, Death steps in to offer Harry another chance at life.
Comments: 67
Kudos: 439





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a plot bunny for the very beginnings of a story - a prologue only. I have not written any more do not know where it will go or how far I will get in writing it, but let me know if you like it so far and I will try not to disappoint.
> 
> I do not (obviously) own Harry Potter and am merely borrowing the characters for my own emotional gratification, no profit.

9-year-old Harry Potter sat in the cupboard under the stairs of 4 Privet Drive and tried to be invisible. As the clock ticked towards 7pm, he prayed with every breath that the front door would not open, that he would not hear the loud tread of overly large feet in the hall, that the cupboard door would remain closed. It was not to be.

The gravel in the drive crunched and Harry heard Uncle Vernon's steps up the drive to where Aunt Petunia was waiting by the door. He heard them both move past the cupboard to the kitchen, a low hush of voices and the clink of china as the Dursleys ate the dinner Harry had prepared. Afterwards, he heard Dudley stomp away to watch television.

Then he heard the vacuum turn on.

He knew what that meant. Aunt Petunia never vacuumed herself. That was one of Harry's jobs. Aunt Petunia turning on the vacuum meant she wanted to cover up a noise she didn't want the neighbours to hear. Something that would ruin the image of a perfect family she tried so hard to project.

The cupboard door was wrenched open and a beefy hand wrapped around Harry's ankle and dragged him out.

"Please Uncle", Harry tried to say. "I didn't mean to, it was an accident", but his pleas fell on deaf ears. Vernon kept a tight hold of the child's ankle, squeezing hard enough that Harry felt his bones grinding against each other, but he kept quiet, knowing the pain would be worse if he made any complaint.

Vernon dragged the boy upstairs by his ankle, uncaring of his small head bouncing on the steps, the noise drowned out by the vacuum in the front room.

Harry's leg was dropped as soon as they entered the spare room and he hunched over his throbbing ankle, holding it close to his body. A sudden kick to his back caught Harry by surprise, though in hindsight he should have seen it coming. 

"So, you think you can break my furniture, do you boy?" Vernon growled. "Think you can destroy my belongings with your freakish ways and go unpunished?" Harry hear the clink of Uncle Vernon's belt and cowered as far into the corner of the room as he could.

"No, Uncle Vernon, it was an accident, I'm sorry." There was no point in trying to explain that it really wasn't Harry's fault, that Dudley had stomped his food so hard yesterday that the supports holding the glass table up had come loose and that while he was trying to fix it today, Dudley had pushed him over onto it and caused the whole thing to smash. Any attempt to explain would only result in more pain for Harry, especially if Uncle Vernon thought he was trying to put the blame on his 'precious Didders'.

"You will be, boy." The first lash of the belt was excruciating, cutting into Harry's back across the bruises already black from Dudley's games. Every stroke thereafter just increased Harry's torment. Every few strikes, Uncle Vernon would lash out with a foot, his stiff-toed leather shoes causing further damage.

Eventually, the shoe connected with Harry's chest and he heard something crack, a sharp pain shooting through him as he tried to gasp for breath. The next blow to his back from the belt caused him to exhale sharply, and he flinched as a trickle of blood left his mouth. 

With a final kick to his head causing Harry's vision to white out momentarily, Uncle Vernon spat onto the floor and walked away. "Filthy freak", he said as he left the room. "That'll teach you to break my things. Clean up this mess now. This room needs to be spotless for when my sister arrives next week."

Harry lay in the corner or the room shivering, feeling something very wrong in his chest. Every breath was agony and he could taste blood, more by the second. He tried to move in order to start wiping up his own blood before it started staining the wooden floor, but as he did so, his chest twinged again and a new bout of pain washed over him, causing him to collapse. The edges of his vision started to go dark and all Harry wished was that he might find a way to end his suffering.

*****

Albus Dumbledore was reviewing his plans for the new school year. He had the school exactly where he wanted it and high hopes for the second Weasley boy, about to start his final year. Unfortunately, the Board of Governors had refused to endorse Albus' choice to make Charlie Head Boy this year, despite an excellent stint as prefect in the last two years. The Board felt that the Head Boy should be given to someone with a cleaner disciplinary record and Charlie had been somewhat of a menace in his earlier years at Hogwarts. Plus there was that unfortunate dragon obsession.

Still, if that failed, the next Weasley was showing great promise as a responsible and rule-following child and might be his chance to bind the entire family tighter to him. Besides, Charlie still looked up to him and Albus was sure with a little persuasion, he could be persuaded to take a useful ministry job like his father.

Just then, one of the devices in his 'Harry Cabinet', designed to monitor the boy's health, began to whir. Unconcerned, as the device had activated several times over the years, Albus started to turn away, when suddenly, the instrument began to emit a high pitched whine. It had never done that before. As Albus stood up in alarm, a second monitor started to glow, then a third began spinning in place.

Shooting off a patronus to Minerva McGonagall and one to Severus Snape, he took a few steps towards the floo when suddenly, every instrument went still. In the ominous silence, Albus turned fearfully to look at the now dark cabinet.

When his door flew open to admit Minerva in her traditional dark robes with tartan trim, closely followed by Severus, as immaculately dressed as ever, it took Albus a few moments to compose himself.

"I fear something may have happened to Harry Potter", he let out. "I have yet to determine what, but my monitoring charms have recently gone haywire and are now silent. I fear a Death Eater attack."

"Oh, Albus, how terrible." Minerva's hand went to cover her mouth as her eyes filled with tears. "How can this have happened?"

"I can only assume Harry was outside the protective wards of the house when the attack occurred. His family would never have let anything happen to him while he was in the house."

"I suggest," Snape drawled, "that we go and check on the boy rather than standing around here speculating. Doubtless he has got himself caught up in something foolish in a desperate bid for attention, but we should investigate nevertheless."

"Indeed we should," Albus concurred. And so, he threw a handful of powder into the fire and called out "12 Wisteria Walk" before stepping into the green flames.

They emerged into chaos. It was now around 10pm. The sound of sirens was loud even in the neighbouring street and the houses were all lit up despite the late hour, curtains twitching as nosy neighbours tried to figure out what was happening.

As the three professors got closer to 4 Privet Drive clad in hastily conjured muggle clothes, it was clear that the excitement was centred around there. 

The trio were just in time to see a red-faced Vernon Dursley being led out of the house loudly protesting his innocence, or at least protesting his arrest. Behind him and the two muggle police officers restraining him, two paramedics carried a stretcher on which they could see a small form wrapped in cloth. 

"By Merlin's beard," Minerva whispered, tears running down her cheeks. "Albus, what on earth happened here?"

"An excellent question," Albus replied and walked over to where a middle aged woman in a nightgown and robe was standing at the end of her driveway watching the proceedings with an air of equal horror at the events and glee at the drama. "Madam, I wonder if you could tell me what has gone on here." 

The woman was only too eager to relate the entire gory tale.

"Mrs Pringle at number six called the police earlier this evening after she heard some strange noises coming from next door. Apparently she's called the police and social services about that house several times, but her complaints never went anywhere. She said they were neglecting the boy who lived there.  
Not their son, the other one, the nephew. Dursley always called him criminally insane, but he always seemed a pleasant enough boy to me. Didn't get on with any of the other children in the neighbourhood for sure, but never caused any trouble."

Snape was beginning to look somewhat irritated at the length of the story by now and asked again what had happened that evening. The woman leaned closer as if to impart a secret.

"Dursley killed him," she whispered. "Beat him to death. Someone overheard one of the paramedics saying he was whipped so badly he had several broken bones and he died from a punctured lung."

At this point, Minerva turned away and was violently sick in the bushes by the side of the path. Severus looked no better, but retained the contents of his stomach. Albus was in shock. This was not supposed to happen. Harry was supposed to attend Hogwarts broken and unhappy and latch on to Dumbledore, who would play the part of the grandfatherly mentor leading him against Voldemort. Now all those carefully laid plans were ruined.

"I said they were the worst sort of muggles, Albus, I said." Minerva was crying into her handkerchief.

"I know Minerva, but he should have been safe here. Shared blood should have kept him safe."

"Had you seen fit to consult me on the boy's placement, Headmaster, I could have informed you that Petunia Dursley, neé Evans was a vindictive woman made bitter by her lack of magic and would not have been an appropriate guardian for any orphaned magical child." Severus interrupted. "As you were so careful to avoid telling me where the boy was placed, I can only assume you anticipated my views and decided to ignore them anyway in order to suit your own needs." At this, Minerva began to shake her head, tears coming more freely the longer Severus spoke.

Albus did not even attempt to defend himself against Severus' words.

"As such, Albus, please consider this my resignation, effective immediately. I cannot work for somebody so willing to manipulate events to their own benefit that they ignore the well-being of a single child. You have done it before with my Slytherins and now you have done it to the child of the woman I loved, a child I had sworn to protect. I am ashamed of you and of myself for failing to confirm that the boy was as happy and spoiled as you claimed all these years. Minerva, I trust you will keep him from making the same mistake again, although I believe you will have your work cut out for you." And so saying, Severus Snape stalked into an alleyway and with a sound like a car backfiring disappeared into the night, leaving Albus Dumbledore and a weeping Minerva McGonagall behind.

None of them noticed a small figure watching them from a few houses down with curiosity.

*****

Harry opened his eyes to white. He appeared to be in a place surrounded by fog. He walked around for some time trying to find any kind of defining feature before he came across what looked like a playground set. Actually, it looked exactly like the set in the park at the end of Privet Drive, except that everything looked new and shiny, not decrepit and vandalised like the ones in Privet Drive. 

Harry sat himself on a swing and set to swinging. After a while, he noted an older man sitting on one of the benches by the slide. He had salt-and pepper hair, an immaculate goatee and was wearing a three-piece suit. Cautious of speaking to a stranger, but aware this was the only other person he had seen in this strange white place, Harry left the swings and walked over. As he got closer, he thought that the man looked familiar, but he was also sure they had never met.

"Excuse me, sir," he began. "Do you know where we are?" The other man looked down at him.

"We are in the between place, Harry," he replied. "We are both everywhere and no-where". Harry did not think this was a helpful answer at all, but put it down to the confusing way adults sometimes had of explaining this that only made sense later.

"How do you know my name?" He asked instead. "Have we met before?"

"Not yet little one, but you are and will be someone very important to me. By blood and by conquest, you are destined to become my Master. It has not yet happened in this timeline, but it is universal and unchangeable. Your title is therefore yours from birth."

"What title?"

"Master of Death, little one." Harry gasped. "I am Death, and you are my Master". Harry didn't want to be anyone's master. That sounded like the slavery he had learned about in school and too much like how the Dursleys had treated him. Death seemed to know what he was thinking.

"Worry not, Harry. You cannot control me in that sense. I am not forced to do your bidding, nor can you compel me to do so. Being Master of Death means that I deem you worthy to be my equal. Only a certain kind of person can unite my Hallows and not be driven mad. Indeed, most who have possessed only one Hallow cannot usually control its powers and are become consumed by them before long. You are the only one who will be able to possess each Hallow without harm; the Cloak of Invisibility, the Resurrection Stone and the Elder Wand are yours now and forever."

"The Elder Wand?" Harry asked. "Is that like the wands the magicians in stories use?"

"It is, for you are a wizard, Harry."

"But Aunt Petunia said magic wasn't real,” Harry protested. After accidentally overhearing a program on the television once, Harry had thought that magic might explain lots of the things he could do that Aunt Petunia called freakish. But Uncle Vernon had quickly beat that idea out of him and Aunt Petunia had called him an idiot for thinking such things were real. Then again, Harry knew that his aunt and uncle had lied about some things. He knew it was not normal for a nine-year old boy to be doing all the household chores, that it wasn’t his duty like they said it was. He also knew he wasn’t a stupid idiot, as he understood everything that happened at school and knew all the answers to all the tests, even if he had to make sure he answered the questions wrong so he wouldn’t score better than Dudley. Maybe the Dursleys had lied about that too. “Was she wrong?” he asked.

“Yes, child.” Death told him. “Your Aunt lied to you about magic. You see, her sister, your mother, was a talented witch and your Aunt hated not being able to do magic herself that over time she grew to hate magic itself and anything that reminded her of it.”

“Like me”, Harry whispered. He understood how easy it was to hate all too well, but he tried to be good and not hate things. Harry allowed himself an exception for Uncle Vernon though. In his opinion, Uncle Vernon was not worth forgiveness or compassion.

Thinking that was enough information to be going on with for the time being, Harry asked again about where they were. “What is the in between place, sir?” He queried. “Between what and what?”

“Between life and death my Master, between night and day, forward and backward, left and right. We are in the place of all things and the place of no-thing. The waiting place if you will.” Harry thought about this and then tried to remember how he came to be in the foggy playground. He remembered waiting in his cupboard for Uncle Vernon to come home, then severe pain and bleeding on the living room floor, then nothing until he was already in the playground.

Perhaps there was nothing to remember. Harry looked at the man who claimed to be Death.

"Am I dead?" Harry asked softly. Death nodded.

"I am sorry to say that you are. But you need not remain so. That is why we are here, not in the beyond place. You must choose your fate."

"Why must I choose? Choose what? How can I be dead but it not be permanent?” Death smiled at him kindly and replied that as the Master of Death, nothing was permanent for Harry. That although he was not immortal in the sense that he could not be killed, every time he died, he would face a choice about how to deal with his death. He could either return to his own body and continue with his life, or be reborn in a new world or time or even in the same place as before if he chose.

“What do you think I should do, Death?” Harry asked. Death considered all that he had known of Harry James Potter in his original life, the struggles he had faced and the lessons he had learned along the way.

“I would not wish to place you back in your previous body, my Master” Death told him. “I would have to do so very quickly after you died and that would leave you in the care of the Dursleys for the foreseeable future. Your death in this world begins a sequence of events that will stretch for generations. I would not subject you to the Dursleys again if there was no other option. However, I could make you a new body and insert you into the world again for you to observe justice for your murder and what comes next. I believe that would be the best thing for you now.”

“Then that is what I choose!” Harry confirmed and, as Death raised his hands of Harry’s head and he felt himself fading again, he continued. “Thank you for speaking to me and for giving me the choice. Will I see you again?”

“We are tied together now, my Master”, Death told him. “I will always be with you, even when you cannot see me, and will always come when you call me. I will see you again very soon, my child. Do not fear.” Harry nodded and closed his eyes. Death’s voice faded and Harry felt himself falling for a long time, until with a sudden jolt, his eyes opened and he stared up at a street lamp and saw flashing blue sirens not too far away. He looked around himself and saw that he was in Privet Drive again, standing outside number 12 and was just in time to see Uncle Vernon being led out of the hose in handcuffs. 

A sound like a car backfiring drew his attention to one of the houses across the street and he saw a very old man and woman in strange clothes speaking to Mrs Grantham from number 15. A whisper in his ear from Death told him these were magical folk and that he should stay away from them for now.

Smiling softly as he listened to Uncle Vernon’s protests as he was forced into the back seat of a police car and taken away, the boy who used to be Harry James Potter turned away from the scene and slowly walked down the dark alleyway between two houses and disappeared into the night, ready to begin his new second life.


	2. Diagon Alley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided where this story is going (loosely), so here is the first proper chapter. I have also settled on the relationship, so see if you can guess from the hints in this chapter!
> 
> Thank you so much to those who commented on this story. It's my first fanfic, so every bit of encouragement helps. I hope you all stick around and don't get too impatient with me.
> 
> I am not planning on turning this into an epic recounting of all the Hogwarts years. I will probably have a few key events in years 1, 2 and 3 to set up characters then start focusing on relationships etc. (including fluff), then get to a bit of smut around year 6.

Phoenix Gray received his Hogwarts letter on a Tuesday afternoon in June. Since learning about Hogwarts and the way the letters were sent out, he had always considered it highly impractical and unfair that the letters were sent out to arrive on a prospective student’s eleventh birthday. It put students with birthdays in the summer, or August at a decided disadvantage. His old birthday had been at the end of July, which would have only given him a month to learn everything there was to know about the wizarding world if he had still been Harry Potter. Not that the Dursleys would have let him learn anything. They probably would have tried to stop him seeing the letter at all.

Stopping himself from going any further down that depressing thought path, Phoenix took the thick envelope from the regal barn owl that had landed on his bedroom window and tore open the first page.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Dear Mr Gray,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.  
Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress

Grinning slightly as he read the enclosed lists of books and uniform requirements, Phoenix left his room and headed down the spiral staircase to the living room.

“Pa,” he called out as he entered the room. “My letter arrived.” For a moment as Phoenix looked around, it did not appear that anyone else was in the room, but as he spoke, a pale blond head popped up from behind a teetering pile of books.

“And about time too, laddie,” Xenophilius Lovegood winked as he stood up, dusting off his knees and placing his wand (which he had clearly just pulled out from under a sofa) on a nearby table. “I was beginning to think they wouldn’t be able to find you! What sort of time do you call this?” Glancing at the facsimilie of a grandfather clock on the wall, both Phoenix and Xenophilius waited a few moments until a small creature with feathers and abnormally large ears jumped out of the casing and spat out a glittery number 2 before disappearing back inside.

Phoenix knew his letter was a little later than it should have been, but clearly Xeno had been more worried than he was. Ever since Death had led Harry to the Rookery in Ottery St Catchpole and introduced Phoenix Gray to his new family, Xenophilius had been a bit wary of the entity. After all, as much as a person believed a certain thing to be true without ever seeing proof, it was another thing entirely when Death himself shows up at ones door and drops of a 9 year old boy.

Phoenix, who had had many conversations with Death in the two years since he had left Privet Drive, had a great deal more faith in his abilities. Death had explained to him that as Death is timeless, Death Magic stretches across time in all directions, meaning as soon as Phoenix had chosen his new name, at the moment when he would have been born (altered slightly to ensure he would not share Harry Potter’s birthday), the magical quill added Phoenix’s new name to the Hogwarts Book of Names so that it would be there when it came time to send the Acceptance Letter 11 years later. Phoenix still didn’t quite understand how that worked, but clearly it did, so he didn’t worry about it too much, pushing the strange workings of Death Magic aside until he had the knowledge to investigate further.

“Goodness gracious, is that the time?” Xenopilius muttered as the clock fell silent again. “Why you must be famished! Call your sister, will you lad? I’ll put the lunch on.”

“Luna,” Harry called up the stairs as Xenophilius descended to the kitchen. “Lunch time.” A slight whoop was heard overhead, then an uneven patter of feet as Luna skipped down the stairs.

“Oh goody. Is there pudding?” She asked as she came into view.

“You know Pa always makes you pudding, you minx,” Phoenix told her as the girl came over to wrap herself around his waist. She nodded happily.

“Daddy makes the best pudding. What have you got there, Nix?” nodding at the envelope still clutched in his hand. “Is that your Hogwarts letter? Can I see? Oh, I wish I was going this year. It’s going to be very strange without you around when you go. What will I do?”

Phoenix laughed and rubbed his sister’s head fondly. “You’ll be fine Lu, you managed to entertain yourself without me for eight years before I turned up, you know!”

“Yes, but it won’t be the same now I know you’re supposed to be here but aren’t. I can’t wait until I get to join you next year.” Phoenix smiled again. He would miss Luna as well, but was glad she would only be a year behind him. Hopefully first year would go quickly and they could be together again the year after.

Xeno called up the stairs that lunch was ready and the siblings went down to join him at the table. They laughed as they ate and talked of the interesting creatures each had read about and of experiments in magic that they could carry out at some point.

***

The next day, the little family headed into London to visit Diagon Alley and pick up Phoenix’s school things. Flooing into the Leaky Cauldron, Xeno stopped to have a brief word with Tom behind the bar as his children scampered off towards the courtyard behind the pub. They made a striking pair, one fair and one dark, heads bent close together as they whispered and giggled.

It pleased Xeno to see Phoenix acting like the child he was. It took him months after he arrived at the Rookery to open up and start to enjoy himself. His previous family had beat the fun out of him long ago and it took a lot of unconditional love and reassurance to bring him back to himself. Now though, two years later, Phoenix was as rambunctious as any newly-turned-eleven-year-old, running and playing with his sister, although there was a spine of steel and a calculating edge beneath the affable exterior he showed now.

Wishing Tom a good day, Xeno and the children emereged into the courtyard that acted as the entrance to the Alley and, tapping at the bricks with his wand, Xeno stepped back to let the children get the full experience of the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley. Although they had of course been there before, it was always a magical experience coming through the archway.

“Stay close, children,” he warned. “It’s busy today, so try and stick together. Ollivander’s first, then we’ll get Phoenix fitted for robes and pick up his books while they’re being made up and work our way back down the Alley.”

Making their way to the top of Diagon Alley, Phoenix and Luna peered into all the shops as they went by. The window displays were fantastic and they discussed between them which shops they would go into on the way back.

Stepping into Ollivanders, it took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the slight gloom of the narrow shop. Xeno cleared his throat loudly as Phoenix peered down the towering stacks of boxes which must hold thousands upon thousands of wands.

Turning around, Phoenix jumped as he was faced with a small and pale man with large silvery eyes behind a thick magnifying glass.

“Good morning, young man” the wandmaker welcomed him. “Hogwarts is it? Hello there Xenophilius, keeping well, I hope?” Xeno replied that he was and was barely able to get another word out before Ollivander had changed the topic to wands. “How is your wand holding up? Apple wood and thunderbird feather, 10 inches. Should last a lifetime if you take care of it well.”

“And so it is and has, Garrick my friend. Top notch work as ever, but today we are here for young Phoenix here, who will be off to Hogwarts in September and needs to get a bit of practice in before he goes.”

“Indeed, indeed. Come here then lad, lets have a look at you.” And so saying, Mr Olllivander gripped Phoenix by the wrist and pulled his arm straight out in front of him before whipping a tape measure out of thin air, which stretched itself out against Phoenix’s forearm. “Hmmmm,” Ollivander muttered. “Nine and three quarter inches.” Placing his magnifying glass on his nose, Ollivander peered at Phoenix for a moment then spun on his heel and dashed down a narrow gap between the aisles and returned a moment later with three boxes under his arm.

“Try this one, my boy.” He handed Phoenix the first wand, a pale brown colour with a peculiar twist and the thin end. “Blackthorn and phoenix feather, strong and pure”. Phoenix twitched the wand slightly and winced as a faint whine and a sputter of sparks was all that happened. Ollivander’s bushy eyebrows went up as he quickly switched out the wand for the next.

“Chestnut and unicorn hair” he offered, “well balanced and focused”. This time the wand flipped itself right out of Phoenix’s hand and smashed into a small vase perched precariously on a ledge, smashing it to bits.

Again, Ollivander offered a different wand and then another. Each time, the wands became progressively more destructive until an actual fire ball threatened to incinerate a large cabinet. Eventually, after half an hour of testing, Ollivander held two wands which had had the least negative results.

“I shall have to craft a new wand” he told Phoenix. “It appears that your wand requires two woods blended together rather than one, an unusual requirement. The last dual wood wand I made was eight years ago. Interesting case there also. Regardless, come with me.” And so Phoenix followed Ollivander to a small workroom at the back of the shop. Several branches hung from the ceiling which would eventually become wands and glass topped drawers and cabinets were pressed against every wall displaying bundles of hair, bone and other strange substances.

Setting the two wands down on a workbench, Ollivander leaned over them and, pressing his own wand to the tips, gently drew back, removing the cores that were already placed. Both were fine silvery thread which Phoenix knew to be unicorn hair. “You have been chosen by an unusual combination, Mr Gray”, Olivander surprised him by speaking. “Elder and blackthorn wood do not typically mix well, both too stubborn and unyielding to play well with others. Yet clearly, for you they will cooperate and not tear each other apart.”

Phoenix was unsure what to say to this and simply watched as Ollivander turned away and pulled out one of the trays of cores, placing it beside the now hollow wands on the workbench.

“Close your eyes and place your hand over the drawer,” Ollivander instructed. “You will be drawn to a particular core more than the others.” Phoenix nodded and did as asked, holding his hand out above the workstation. At fist he felt nothing, and felt a little silly waving his hand about in thin air. Then, after a few moments, he felt a slight twitch. Pausing his movements, he tried to locate the source, but it was only a very weak tug. He lowered his hand slightly closer to the drawer and was suddenly able to feel the pull, like a magnet was drawing his hand right to the very corner of the drawer, so he had to lean up over the table and stretch onto his toes in order to reach.

He picked up what felt like a single hair and, opening his eyes, saw that it was pitch black and glossy. “Thestral hair”, Ollivander commented quietly, eyeing Phoenix strangely. Not willing to engage much further, Phoenix held out the hair, but Ollivander shook his head and instructed Phoenix to lay the hair out between the two wand woods.

Ollivander held his wand over the two woods and the hair and began to chant quietly. Phoenix felt pressure building up in the room and just as it became unbearable, the atmosphere suddenly popped, like ears coming out of a tunnel and Phoenix realised that he had reflexively closed his eyes. Opening them again, Phoenix looked at the table top and realised that where once there had been two wands, one dark and one light, there was now only one.

It was long and pale, very straight, with what looked like a very fine filigreed web of black moving down the wand to pool around the handle, which was much darker. Looking closely, Phoenix saw that the black pattern appeared to be thorns, travelling up and down the wand, twitching slightly in the light.

“A very unusual wand,” Ollivander said quietly. “Individually, the components all have some affinity with death, yet the overall effect is absolutely inundated with life. I forsee great magic will be cast with this wand. Do not let anybody take it from you, although I expect it’s allegiance will not be easily changed. Give it a go, lad.”

This time, when Phoenix picked up the wand, a soft breeze blew around him and a gentle torrent of sparks, more like a fountain of water than a firework erupted from the tip. Phoenix and Ollivander both smiled in satisfaction.

A short time and 10 galleons later (7 for the wand, an additional 2 for the extra materials required and the remainder for the purchase of a wand holster), Phoenix, Xeno and Luna left Olivanders and returned to the Alley for the rest of their shopping.

The rest of the trip passed quickly. Phoenix was fitted for the standard Hogwarts uniform at Madam Malkins. He also bought a few sets of casual robes, as he had grown somewhat over the summer and was starting to outgrow some of his clothes.

Next was the bookshop and all three spent quite some time in the aisles dedicated to magical creatures. Eventually, Phoenix went to the Counter to purchase his school things. Inserting the black Gringotts key held on a chain around his neck into the keyhole in the register in order to pay, he saw the cashier’s double take, but ignored it. Black keys were very rare and denoted a very old and very wealthy account at Gringotts. This particular key and vault had been given to Phoenix by Death shortly after his arrival at the Lovegoods’. Phoenix still wasn’t sure exactly how much money was in the account, but as Death said, being immortal, and mostly incorporeal, Death didn’t really need to spend money on anything, for all that it was accumulating in his account, so Phoenix may as well get the benefit. He had not really been able to argue with that and had accepted the key after a short discussion.

A quick stop at the apothecary for potions supplies, then Fortescue’s for a cone of ice cream (at Luna’s insistence) and finally back to Madame Malkins to pick up Phoenix’s order, then the trio headed home, immensely grateful for the feather-light charm that meant their hands and shoulders were spared from carrying the heavy loads, for all that their feet ached from all the walking they had done.


	3. Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phoenix arrives at Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have the patience to be particularly vigilant for typos etc. Once I'm done I just want to post, and I have no beta, so all mistakes are mine. Let me know if you see anything glaring and I'll fix it though.
> 
> I'm unable to commit to a posting schedule, I'm afraid. I have a full-time job, so not a lot of free time now I'm back after the holiday. That said, I will post whenever I can, and I hope I can keep you all interested.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has commented and given me kudos! You guys are the best!

The morning of 1st September dawned bright and cold and Phoenix woke from a troubled sleep. As excited as he was to attend Hogwarts, he could not help but feel apprehensive about attending a place where so many of those who had contributed to his first life’s misery still lived.

Although they would be none the wiser, Phoenix was worried that he would inadvertently give something away and be somehow forced back into his old life. Death had assured him that could not happen, but Phoenix was unable to fully relax.

Lying in bed, he slowed his breathing and forced his rapidly beating heart to calm. After a few minutes, he felt able to face the day and rose to perform his morning ablutions. Looking around his room, he double and triple checked that he had not left anything behind which he would want to keep with him at Hogwarts. His trunk was already backed and, with a quick flick of his wand, Phoenix shrunk it and stuffed it into the pocket of his over-robe.

In the months since he had received his want, Phoenix had spent countless hours meditating with it and practicing simple magic. Xenophilius had several obscure texts on the nature of magic and how wizards accessed it. Whilst a lot of the material appeared to be much like Xeno himself – somewhat crazy out of context – Phoenix had learned a great deal from his library. Before receiving his wand, much of the knowledge was theoretical and although Phoenix had learned to meditate and access his own inner core of magic, he was unable to access the ambient magic of nature without a wand. One of the books suggested he might be able to if he managed to attune himself well enough to his wand that it essentially integrated with him, but until it he was able to see something for himself, Phoenix took everything he read with a pinch of salt.

Thus far, he had, however figured out how to channel his intentions through his wand without the need for spellcasting. A feat referred to as wordless magic and incredibly difficult in many more common texts, but to Phoenix and the author of the untitled book on wandlore he had found in the library, it was merely a side effect of a close bond with one’s wand beyond the Choosing, when the wand and wizard first met and the wand gives its allegiance. 

Whatever the explanation was, Phoenix was just happy to be able to learn something new, and it certainly made his life easier.

When he finally made it down the stairs, Xeno and Luna were already at the breakfast table, helping themselves to toast, boiled eggs and ham.

“Good morning, Phoenix,” greeted Xeno. “Come and eat, you have a long day ahead of you and not much in the way of real food until the feast this evening. That blasted trolley on the train is nothing but sugar!” Phoenix sat and served himself some breakfast.

“All ready then, lad?” Phoenix nodded and, through a mouthful of toast replied that he was. “I can’t believe it’s that time already. It seems like yesterday you were dropped off on my doorstep and already you’re leaving us for greener pastures, eh?”

Luna’s lip wobbled slightly at that.

“You won’t forget us though, will you Nix? Only I don’t want the nargles to get a foothold in your brain. We might never find you again!”

“I’ll be alright, Lu. No nargles here, I promise,” Phoenix replied. “And in just a year, you’ll be joining me and if any have found their way in in the meantime, you can help me get rid of them. Besides, I’ll be home for Yule, then we can exchange stories of what we’ve been up to. And I’ll write to you all the time.”

Luna nodded, somewhat reluctantly and returned to her breakfast. Phoenix, slightly subdued himself at having to leave his new-found family, forced himself to eat a hearty breakfast before they left for the train station.

****

The Hogwarts express was a beautiful machine, gleaming red and black metal with gold accents and a delightful sounding whistle. Phoenix could not help but be caught up in the excitement abounding on the platform.

A short distance a way, a red-headed woman was kissing two boys goodbye and pressing what looked like sandwiches wrapped in tin-foil into their hands, much to their embarrassment.

Phoenix, Xenophilius and Luna found a quiet spot halfway down the train to say their goodbyes and exchanged long hugs.

“I’ll miss you both terribly,” Phoenix told the two blonds. “Don’t forget to write to me and I’ll see you in a few months for Yule.”

“You too lad,” Xeno whispered. “Be sure and write this evening to tell us about the sorting.”

“And listen carefully to the Hat,” said Luna. “The song this year will be particularly entertaining.”

“I will,” Phoenix promised before a sharp whistle blew out signalling the train’s imminent departure. With one last hug and a kiss to Luna’s forehead, Phoenix entered the train and, finding an empty compartment, pressed himself against the window to wave as the train began to move and his family disappeared from sight.

Once the station was no longer visible, Phoenix heaved a sigh and sat down on one of the benches that lined the compartment. He had just pulled out a book to read when two young girls opened the compartment door.

“Hello,” one said to him. “Would you mind awfully if we sat with you? Everywhere else seems to be full of old friends and it felt wrong to intrude.”

“Of course,” Phoenix waved them in. “Perhaps we should make friends and do the same!” The girls grinned as they sat down opposite him and introduced themselves.

“I’m Susan Bones,” said the girl who had spoken before. She had long red hair, pulled back into a plait that hung over her left shoulder. “This is Hannah Abbot.”

“Miss Bones, Heiress Abbot, it is a pleasure to meet you both. I am Phoenix Gray”. Acknowledging Hannah’s status as sole heir to an Ancient and Most Noble House, Phoenix inclined his head slightly and she did the same as a gesture of thanks. Susan just smiled at him.

“Please, call me Hannah,” the girl said, dark blonde hair swishing slightly as she made herself comfortable. “I have not heard of the Grays before, so you cannot be from a wizarding family, yet you know our customs better than any muggleborn I have met. Well enough to recognise my name as one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, anyway. Where are you from, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Then you must call me Phoenix,” he replied. “I am not of a noble house and my bloodline is unknown. I am a ward of the Lovegood family.”

“Thank you, Phoenix. The Lovegoods, you say? My aunt told me their family has been building one of the oddest libraries she has ever heard of over the last few generations and that they may even own one of Merlin’s journals! Is that true?”

Phoenix laughed.

“I’m afraid I can’t say about Merlin,” he told the girls, “I’ve not read everything, but the library is certainly fascinating. I’ve found some wonderful reads on the way magic is used and several wonderful creatures.”

The next several hours were spent with the trio talking of books and getting to know one another as the sky steadily grew darker and the train pulled them northwards.

****

Professor Minerva McGonagall awaited the new first year students in the entrance hall, listening to the din of the returning students as they caught up with the summer gossip before the sorting ceremony. She was so very tired.

The last few years had been very tough on the austere woman. Her hair, swept up into its customary tight bun was now more gray than black and the crows feet around her eyes were deeper than ever. The death of Harry Potter had been a huge blow to the wizarding world, who lamented the death of their Saviour before he was ever returned to them.

As much as Minerva lamented the poor child and her lack of action in failing to check up on him over the years despite her misgivings as to the family he had been left with, for her, the true difficulty came afterwards. Although Albus had stated that there was no way he could have known of the boy’s circumstances, both the Wizengamot and Gringotts had carried out investigations, as was required when the Heir to a wizarding house died. 

The Ministry had, of course, attempted to seize control of the Potter estates as Harry’s death had meant the end of the line, but Gringotts had put a stop to that and sealed the Potter vaults, houses and business dealings, announcing that wizarding kind had forfeited their rights to the Potter estate as they had failed in their duties to take care of their young. Minerva also suspected that they had done something to Albus, as he had refused to set foot in a bank the last few years, always sending someone else to make any withdrawals from the school accounts.

Albus had been cleared of any wrongdoing by the Wizengamot Investigation Department, lead by Hestia Jones and had retained his title as Headmaster of Hogwarts, however Minerva always wondered what exactly went on during that investigation, the more detailed results of which were never published. Her own faith in Albus had been damaged irrevocably. Although Minerva had not often thought of Harry over the years since that fateful night when she watched Albus leave him with the muggles, whenever she had raised the subject, Albus had assured her that he was healthy and happy and being well treated, even spoiled by his family. He had said it in such a way that she had never once doubted him and, now that his information had been proved to be false, she could not help but worry over what else she might have been misled in by trusting to his word so blindly. She did not think Albus a bad person, but she now clearly saw how his focus on the Greater Good meant that some things which should not be sacrificed would mean little to him.

Minerva had therefore taken it upon herself as Deputy Headmistress to become more involved and in all her students’ health and happiness, which Poppy Pomfrey had been more than willing to assist her in. Over the last two years, Minerva had had seven children removed from abusive homes and, with the help of the Ministry’s Department of Children’s Services, placed with appropriate families.

Minerva was trying to make sure her past failures didn’t repeat themselves. She only wished Albus could do the same. For all that she was keeping a close eye on him, Albus had become even more guarded and paranoid, sharing his plans with few but the most loyal of the Order of the Phoenix, those who continued to meet anyway, most of the organisation having got on with their lives since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s defeat by the infant saviour. Only a few of the older members regularly met up anymore, and Minerva had no time for their doomsday attitudes.

Indeed, she had no time for indulging in reflection either, as she saw Hagrid leading the first years up the long staircase from the docks.

As the first years congregated in front of her, Minerva could not help but wonder how it was the first years always seemed so much shorter than any year that came before and wondered whether she had ever been so small.

“Welcome,” she announced, “to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be Sorted into your houses.”

****

Phoenix was in awe.

Xeno had taught him never to gape at his surroundings so as to avoid looking like a simpleton, but several of his cohort could not seem to help themselves and Phoenix’s eyes were darting all over the entrance hall, taking in details he had only read about and which, he thought, were even more magnificent in person.

The severe-looking woman waiting for the in the hall introduced herself as Professor McGonagall, transfiguration teacher and Deputy Headmistress, before leaving them for a few moments, presumably to make sure the rest of the school was ready for them.

As the new students milled around waiting for their grand entrance, Phoenix heard a tall, skinny boy with white-blond hair speaking to an equally gangly, though slightly more awkward ginger boy.

“You’d better watch yourself, Weasel,” the blond said as he looked the other boy up and down. “My father says your kind aren’t long for Hogwarts once they scrap the spots reserved for the ….. “less fortunate. Good riddance, I say. Father and I agree, this place has let its standards slip significantly if I’m any judge of this rabble. I mean look at all the slack-jawed idiots around here.”

Turning to the two stocky boys beside him, "I really don't think they should let the impure ones in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, I imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families."

Looking around, the blond caught Phoenix’s eye and sneered, presumably at not being able to recognise him immediately, as his clothes were of a high enough quality that Phoenix did not think they boy could find anything to object to there.

“And who are you?” the boy sneered.

“My name is Phoenix Gray. And yourself?”

“I’m Draco Malfoy,” the blond said, as though the answer should be obvious. Actually, based on his hair, Phoenix had already deduced that the boy could only be a Malfoy or a Lovegood, and the attitude (as well as Phoenix’s knowledge of his new family tree) crossed out the Lovegood angle.

“I’ve never heard of you,” Malfoy stated. “Who are your parents? Are they even magical?”

“My parents are dead,” Phoenix offered. “I am fostered with a wizarding family and owe them much.” Malfoy nodded as though Phoenix’s words had impressed him, for all that his general aura of disdain did not disappear. 

“Hmmm. Nobody then. You’d do well to remember who I am, Nobody. You’ll soon find out that some people are better than others around here. Take care not to make friends with the wrong sort.”

“One day Mr Malfoy,” Phoenix told the other boy, “you will judge a person as the ‘wrong sort’ far too quickly based on those ideals. And on that day, you will wish that you did not see the world in black and white as you do now. Perhaps if you could learn to appreciate the in between, you would not need to fall from your golden tower so very hard.”

Malfoy’s brow crinkled slightly, his perpetual smirk finally falling from his face in confusion as to what had just been said. By the time he realised he had been insulted, Professor McGonagall had returned and ushered them into the Great Hall. Malfoy was steered away to the other side of the group by his cronies, but left a parting whisper as he did.

“Watch yourself Gray.”

****

Phoenix clapped as Susan and Hannah were both sorted into Hufflepuff. The Sorting Hat’s introductory song had been fascinating, but somewhat long, and Phoenix was getting hungry. Extremely relieved as a bushy haired girl was sorted into Gryffindor, Phoenix walked up to the stool on which the Hat rested as his name was called.

Professor McGonagall lifted the Hat and Placed it on his head.

“Good evening, Mr Gray,” the Hat whispered in his ear. “Or do you prefer Potter?” Phoenix started slightly at how quickly the Hat had discovered his secret and opened his mouth to protest when the Hat shushed him.

“Calm yourself, child” it told him. “’Tis not my secret to tell, and so I shan’t. My folds are filled with the secrets I have learned over the years and nobody has managed to squeeze one from me yet. Especially when they weren’t looking! No fears. You are exactly where you need to be. And I can see exactly where you need to be next too. Whilst you have a Ravenclaw’s brain, you are far too meticulous careful with your knowledge. As much as you love to learn, your knowledge is never just theoretical, is it?”

“Why would anything be theoretical,” Phoenix asked? “All of these theories are just theories until tested, and then they could be magnificent. Everything can be used at some point. You just need to accumulate enough knowledge to ensure you have something for every situation.”

“Very true,” the Hat replied. “You have grand plans for yourself and the world, I can see that much. So be it. Better be ……. SLYTHERIN!”

Phoenix hopped off the stool and went to join his new housemates, studiously ignoring the calculating blue eyes that followed his journey, as they had for the other three new Slytherins so far.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Guys, Sorry this chapter took so long. I hope everyone is staying safe during lockdown! I seriously thought I would have more free time on my hands now I'm working from home, but it turns out I have no more than before! Go figure.  
> Anyway, here's the next chapter. Enjoy! Please don't copy to other sites. Comments always appreciated. ;)  
> xx

Phoenix’s first month at Hogwarts passed quickly. His classes were all interesting, although he did find it hard to remember to direct his magic through his wand and enunciate his intentions. Phoenix found that the results whenever he did so were not as close to the image he pictured in his head before casting, but the added benefit of keeping the teachers and the other students in the dark about his true abilities more than made up for the inconvenience.

The other first years in Slytherin were nice enough, other than Malfoy and his two shadows, that was. Phoenix had made firm friends with Theodore Nott, a quiet and studious boy who shared his love of magical theory and Blaise Zabini, a more sociable chap with an easy charm, who always seemed to know more than he let on.

Malfoy was, as expected, a giant prat. Since the unofficial house motto was “what happens in Slytherin, stays in Slytherin”, Malfoy kept any outright hostilities out of the main halls of the rest of the castle, but when both he and Phoenix were in the common rooms or the dormitories, he rarely stopped talking or threatening Phoenix, mostly with vague threats about what his father would do rather than anything actually worrisome.

“I honestly can’t believe he was sorted into Slytherin,” Theo was saying as they made their way up to the Owlery from the dungeons one evening after dinner. “He has about as much subtlety as Dumbledore’s ridiculous robes and if he starts one more sentence with ‘when my father hears about this’, I’m seriously considering owling his father _myself_ just to see what happens!”

Phoenix laughed aloud. “I would pay good money to see the look on Draco’s face when he realises his father actually has heard about something. You don’t think he actually tells him anything that goes on do you?”

“When would he have the time? I know he writes to his mother relatively often because she’s always sending him sweets, but between that and how much time he spends in front of the mirror getting his hair to lie just so, I can’t imagine when he would fit it in. Seriously, if he wasn’t deathly allergic to hard work, I’d say he should be in Hufflepuff, he’s such a sap.”

“I’ve never understood how the sorting hat works exactly anyway,” Phoenix interjected as they started climbing another set of stairs. “I mean, if it just reads your thoughts, then surely it can’t possibly be accurate enough to figure out what kind of person you’re going to be for the next seven years, let alone the rest of your life. And then what if it actually goes deep enough to read your magic or your soul? Isn’t that an invasion of privacy? And can it be fooled?”

“Maybe it reads auras, and that’s why it doesn’t even have to touch some people’s heads?”

“That would make sense,” Phoenix replied. “Maybe we should ask Professor Flitwick about the charms-“

The boys’ conversation was interrupted by a low rumble and they looked around to find they were in a deserted and dark corridor.

“I’ve never been in this part of the castle before,” Phoenix muttered, looking down the dark hallway and wondering at the lack of portraits. “We can’t have come too far, we were only just on the second floor, so why is it so empty?”

Theo had moved to a door halfway down the corridor and was peering through a keyhole when he squeaked softly. Another low rumble came from behind the door and Theo scrambled backwards away from the wood. 

“Phoenix,” he said. “I hate to break this to you, but I do believe we’re on the third floor-”

“That sounds about right, since I was sure we had been on the second just a minute ago,” Phoenix offered, still staring at a wall where he could see an outline on the stone where a portrait had been removed.

“-In a corridor-“

“Yes, Theo. That much is obvious.”

“-On the right hand side-“

“…..”

He and Phoenix stared at each other for a moment.

“Not the third floor corridor that Dumbledore warned us to stay out of if we didn’t want to die a painful _death_ corridor?” Phoenix asked in a hopeful voice.

“I’d warrant that was the one, yes.” Theo told him, and pointed at the wooden door opposite. Phoenix slowly moved over to the door and crouched as Theo had done to look through the keyhole. A very large very yellow eye blinked back at him and suddenly several dogs began to bark.

" **Run!** ” Phoenix shouted, and he and Theo sprinted for the Charms Corridor around the corner before anybody could catch them out of bounds. 

They did not stop running until they were back in the dungeons, trip to the Owlery forgotten as the pair sat on Phoenix’s bed under a privacy charm and caught their breath.

“Bloody hell,” Theo burst out. “What in the name of Merlin’s sagging bollocks are they doing keeping a _cerberus_ in a school full of edible children?”

“An excellent question, my friend, and one I think we should make sure is answered by the appropriate people. That said, where would one normally find a cerberus?”

“I think we’d have to ask Professor Kettleburn where they’re native to. He teaches Care of Magical Creatures to third years and up. But in the British Isles, I’ve only ever heard of them as guard-dogs for high security vaults at Gringotts and the like,” Theo answered.

“That’s probably it, then, don’t you think?” Phoenix suggested. “It must be guarding something.”

“What could possibly be important enough in a school to have a fully grown cerberus guarding it? And whatever it is, why in Hades isn’t it in Gringotts?”

“It could be any number of things, but I’m fairly certain we don’t actually want to know. Still, I think this calls for exactly the kind of moronic intervention we were talking about earlier. This needs bigger fish than we are to gain any traction.”

Whilst somewhat bemused at the turn of phrase, Theo leaned in curiously to hear Phoenix’s scheme.

***

A week, one carefully timed hint to ensure they were followed, one staged mishap ending up in the third floor corridor and a delightfully effeminate shriek later, an article appeared in the Daily Profit.

> HORROR AT HOGWARTS by Rita Skeeter
> 
> My dear readers as most of you with children (and even those without) will already know, a magical castle can be a dangerous place, with misfired spells, potions mishaps moving staircases among the daily risks at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, hence the presence of a fully dedicated mediwitch (Madam Poppy Pomphrey) on site.
> 
> However in order to trust the lives of our children the next generation of the wizarding world to such a dangerous place nine months out of the year, we must have implicit faith inn the custodians of the School to take care of our young and not place them in any more dangerous situations than can be helped.
> 
> Readers I am sorry to say that today, that trust has been breached! Yesterday, I was contacted by a parent of a child at the school (who shall remain unnamed due to his brave actions in coming forward) to inform me that his son had, entirely unwittingly, found himself in a third floor corridor and had discovered that a dangerous beast was being kept in the former charms classroom! I am sure you can imagine the terror and shock this poor young student suffered at coming face to face with a cerberus, which for any readers not familiar with the species, is a three headed dog of monstrous proportions classified by the ministry as a XXXX dangerous beast, nearly impossible to domesticate and requiring specialist knowledge and skills to handle with anything approaching safety.
> 
> Despite this, dear readers, it is with great sadness that I report that the esteemed Albus Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of our own Wizengamot knowingly placed this dangerous beast withing the hallowed halls of Hogwarts and with naught but a vague warning to students to stay away from the corridor, failed to place even the simplest wards over the area, the room in which the cerberus was housed opening to a simple Alohamora, a first year spell of no great complexity.
> 
> Following my investigation into these events, I was also contacted by Lucius Malfoy, Chair of the Hogwarts Board of Governors and concerned parent himself. Lord Malfoy confirmed that the Board had no knowledge of the creature’s presence in the school, despite the School Charter requiring the Headmaster to inform the Board of any dangerous objects or creatures beyond those required for teaching purposes placed in the school. Lord Malfoy confirmed that at a meeting of the Board, the Headmaster had been severely reprimanded for his negligent behaviour and that the beast had been removed and turned over to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.
> 
> With my hand on my heart, dear readers, I am with the Board of Governors in their concern at the reckless behaviour of the Headmaster whom has been entrusted with the safekeeping of our children. In light of the shocking revelations three years ago regarding the Headmaster’s interference and reckless actions regarding the care of Harry Potter, this reporter wonders what more it will take for the wizarding people’s trust in the once great Albus Dumbledore to wane. This reporter for one certainly thinks he has a lot to answer for.
> 
> (For background information on Harry Potter, see page 6)  
>  (For background information on Albus Dumbledore, see page 12)  
>  (For more information on the classification of dangerous beasts, see page 14)

Phoenix watched from the Slytherin table as Dumbledore glared at the newspaper and the whispers and sidelong glances started spreading around the Great Hall, and smirked.

***

Later that afternoon, Phoenix and Theo were walking down by the lake after their last class for the day – Herbology in the greenhouses – had finished and they came across Hagrid, the Groundskeeper bawling his eyes out on the front step of his hut.

“Are you alright, Hagrid?” Phoenix asked. “Is there anything we can do?” Theo looked at him dubiously, but nevertheless nodded his head at the half-giant.

“Don’ worry yourself, lads” Hagrid sniffed. “I’m jus’ missin’ Fluffy, is all. Them folks from the Ministry wot took him away surely don’t know how to care for him proper.” At that, Theo’s eyes bulged and he opened his mouth, no doubt to query Hagrid’s sanity, but Phoenix elbowed him in the ribs.

“Was Fluffy the cerberus that was taken away, Hagrid?” Hagrid nodded.

“’E’s only a pup, poor thing, he’s not cut out for this sort of thing, an’ I told Dumbledore that when I lent ‘im. He really is a sweetheart.” Phoenix was sceptical of that, but sympathetic anyway. After all, he supposed everything was less threatening when you were over 10 feet tall.

“I’m sorry about that Hagrid. I’m sure the ministry will return him to wherever he originated from and he’ll be very happy there. It really wasn’t fair to keep him locked up in a castle, you know.”

At that, Hagrid cried even harder, sobbing that Fluffy had looked miserable every time Hagrid went to feed him and that he really did need lots of space to run and play. Finding himself suddenly suffocated in a half-giant’s hug, Phoenix awkwardly patted him on his elbow (the highest part he could reach).

“There, there Hagrid. I’m sure if you make a petition to the Ministry, they’ll tell you where they release him, then maybe you can go and visit him in his natural habitat.”

And just like that, Phoenix and Theo were invited inside for the first of what would become a weekly invitation for tea and inedible cakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And just like that, the entire philosopher's stone incident is avoided. I will, of course be tying up a few loose ends with Nicholas Flammel, but I am conscious that while I want to get on with the story, my writing style tends to be far too minute and focused for me to actually cover a broad stretch of time. How comfortable are you guys with time skips?


End file.
